Can you Ever Go Home Again?
by corvus12
Summary: It's been 2 years since she left NY and Dave hasn't seen or heard from Mindy in all that time. Does her apparent return signal the re-igniting of a beautiful friendship, or is the past something that will remain buried? Or is this all nothing more than a figment of Dave's own delusional desires?
1. Chapter 1 - Dreams & Portents

**Notes: **_This story takes place about two years after the movie Kick-Ass 2. It details the meeting between Dave and Mindy after their long separation and immediately precedes my story "Masking the Pain". I hope you enjoy it...please leave reviews!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Dreams &amp; Portents<strong>

Not that I'm counting or anything, but it's been two years, three months, and five days since she left when I finally nearly have a heart attack that almost sends me plummeting twelve stories to become road pizza.

It starts innocuously enough. I'm on patrol and these days that means staying out of sight, usually running across the tops of buildings and looking for trouble. The days of sauntering down the street and high fiving passers-by are long gone. Heroes are thin on the ground these days, though there are still a few hardy souls out there fighting the good fight. I've decided to take a page out of the Big Daddy/Hit Girl playbook and now try to keep things as surreptitious as possible.

I tend to concentrate my efforts on areas known for criminal activity, usually planning out my attacks based on intel gathered from various sources before making a move, but I still like to do general patrols pretty regularly…I just do them from a more discrete vantage.

I had just made a jump that would have turned my stomach to jell-o back in the day. The thought makes me smile as I remember my awkward escape from Rasul's across the rooftops which also happened to be my first meeting with Hit Girl. Of course the mere thought of Mindy immediately turns my smile into a frown. I wonder for the thousandth time where she is and what she's doing.

"Snap out of it Dave," I mutter to myself, "time to stop being such a whiny little bitch."

I had just shaken my head clear of morose thoughts about my former partner and was crouching on the edge of the rooftop when I see it.

A flash of purple to my left sends a jolt through my nerves that I swear feels like I'm being electrocuted. Of course I immediately turn to get a glimpse at what it is without even thinking of where I am.

By now I'm confident enough with the heights that the sudden shift in balance shouldn't be too detrimental to my equilibrium - except of course for the fact that I am *certain* the flash of purple is *hair*. That literally halts my breath in my throat and stops the hand that I had been reaching towards the ledge for a surer grip. It sounds stupid, but I start to hyperventilate and I swear I can feel my chest constricting. It's like the world is collapsing in on me and everything seems to be happening in slow motion. Thankfully some part of my back-brain realizes that I'm starting to fall backwards towards the pavement below and it's only this that saves me from a broken neck, or worse, as my hand flies out automatically and my fingers manage to grip onto a nearby fire escape before I twist away from the building.

I slam into the side of the fire escape with a loud bang and wince at the pain that starts to blossom along my ribs. As I hang there in midair for a second I try to catch my breath, closing my eyes and forcing myself to breathe. I also try to force myself to think clearly. It's just the damn hallucinations.

For the last couple of months I have been starting to have 'visions' of Hit-Girl, or at least that's how my damn irrational hopes are interpreting them. I only catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, usually just a flash of purple or a petite form that seems to trigger some long buried memory. At first I was overjoyed, but then I started to worry, I knew they couldn't be real and I thought I might actually be going crazy. Over the past week or so I haven't had any 'visions' at all so I was starting to think that maybe whatever demon had been inhabiting my id had finally left. I guess not.

Pulling myself up onto the fire escape I climb back to my perch and scan the horizon, trying to stifle the hope that is once again blooming in my chest along with the pain. Nothing. Yup, just another damn hallucination. I breathe a heavy sigh, uncertain whether it's good or bad that it's not real.

Then I see it again.

This time it's farther away, but unless I am actually at home dreaming or having a full-on drug trip then this *has* to be real. There is definitely someone running across the building tops with practiced ease. In the dim light and distance I can't make out colours anymore and the details are indistinct, but I can tell it's a petite person with a cape and flared skirt.

Before I can even form a coherent thought my body takes over. I'm off and bounding after the receding figure with a recklessness that would give me pause, even with my newly acquired skill with heights, if I was allowing myself to think clearly.

The figure leads me on a merry chase and I can't tell if they are trying to evade me or just like traipsing across the city rooftops with apparent abandon. Either way I have a hard time keeping them in sight and nearly despair once or twice when I lose them in the hazy distance, only to breathe a sigh of relief when they reappear again, slightly farther ahead.

Eventually we end up in a neighbourhood comprised of run down warehouses and industrial sites and are forced down to street level due to the distance between buildings. I drop with a soft thud and scan my surroundings. This is a bad part of town, but there hasn't been any specific criminal activity to draw me here in some time. The relative lack of civilians around here also means that it often gets a pass on my regular patrols.

I can't see the figure I've been following, but I'm certain that I've descended at nearly the same point they had used. Now my job becomes much harder, I have to figure out where they've gone in the maze of buildings and fenced-in lots that surround me.

A cursory scan of the neighbourhood doesn't yield much information. Everything seems pretty quiet and the roads are empty of traffic. I start to walk slowly forward, continuing to scan the area as I approach the nearest building. It is an empty warehouse and a look through the broken windows doesn't reveal anything of interest.

I continue with a quick search of the nearest buildings, but when nothing pans out I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. If this has been simply another mirage produced by my addled brain then it's been the most vivid and consistent one yet. That's enough to add a slight edge of panic to my thoughts - maybe I'm finally losing it.

If it had been real, though! I close my eyes and clench my fists at the possibility that she was real and I've lost her. If only I had been faster! Even if it was real, though, I can't let myself fully believe that I had seen what I really wanted to see, I'm not ready to have that long-held hope finally dashed to pieces, but even if it was nothing more than a copy-cat I have to get to the bottom of it.

Taking a breath I decide to try a different approach. I've made some modifications to my uniform and equipment over the years that I've been alone…without a partner I need every extra advantage I can get. I ended up adding both extra armour for protection and a few gadgets that make life a hell of a lot easier. One of them might come in handy now.

Pulling the thermal rifle scope from my 'utility belt' I quickly scan the area. No one appears to be hiding in the darkness immediately around me, but I pick up some heat signatures at the far end of the scope's range. No telling what they are, but at least it gives me a direction to look in.

I sprint towards the area, but slow down as I start to get close. There's definitely something going on here, but I can't tell if it's just some late night unloading or something more nefarious.

There's no immediate sign of another masked figure, but I do see several guys taking crates out of a truck and leaving them on the loading dock elevator. I pull out my scope again and try to get a look at what they're unloading. There are no markings on the crates and they look pretty generic so I have no idea if this is above-board or not.

I start getting antsy as I wait, trying to decide what to do. I have no reason to think this isn't just a legitimate drop off of cargo and I don't want to completely lose any chance at finding the rooftop runner if I can help it. I am just about ready to get up and look elsewhere when a shadow detaches itself from the far corner of the building and approaches the two men. They have no idea anyone is there and I'm rooted to the spot as I watch the scene.

There is a gleam of light against a blade and suddenly the figure is on them. With two swift twirls and an artful twist the blade flickers in the darkness and the two men drop where they stand. They didn't even know what hit them. I hear a light whistle as the figure quickly twirls the blade in the air and a small spatter of blood hits the wall and then she is inside the building. I say "she" because I know it *has* to be her. There's no one else that can do that, not with the style and ease I just saw.

I finally come to myself and sprint towards the entrance. This is it! This is really fucking it! Mindy is back!

When I plunge into the building everything is chaos. I grin. That's my girl!

When I look around I notice a few crates that had already been moved into the warehouse and opened. They're full of semi-automatic weapons and my eyes widen a little. This is big stuff. Among my other more pressing (and personal) questions I wonder how Hit-Girl knew about it…and why I didn't.

Shaking off my questions for now I move on to where the chaos seems to be thickest. I don't even need to defend myself at this point, so far every thug that had been between me and the action has been taken care of. As far as I'm concerned this just confirms my suspicions about who is here. I guess some things never change.

I pull out my batons and wade into the action. I still can't see Hit-Girl, but I decide it's high time that Kick-Ass makes his presence known.

I lash out at the knees of the thug immediately before me and he drops like a sack of lead. One more bash to his face and he won't be causing any more trouble.

The strangled yell he gave as he fell warns two of the guys who were in front of him and they turn to face me.

"Shit! It's another one, someone get the damn guns out of the crates and put some holes in these fuckers!"

I decide I don't want to give them the chance and throw a baton at the face of one of them while I step in towards the other and smash my remaining baton across his face. His jaw crunches and some teeth go flying and I follow up with a bash to his gut, finishing him with a quick stroke across his neck as he falls.

I crouch and spin, picking up the baton I had thrown and then rise up directly beneath the man starting to recover from the throw and smash both batons across his neck. He gurgles for a moment before dropping to the ground.

I turn to face the rest of the room, but there's not much left for me to do. I can't see any thugs still standing, though there is a significant amount of blood splattered against the walls. I pause as I try to find the petite figure I had followed into the warehouse, my heart stopping for a moment as I consider the possibility, however unlikely, that she is lying among the fallen.

"Better move your ass!"

I look towards the far end of the warehouse where I see another entrance. A small figure wearing an all-too familiar uniform is standing there leaning on a bladed bo-staff and my heart stops as she gives me a cryptic smile.

"Things are about to get hot in here."

With that she turns and races out the door.

"Hit-Girl, wait! What the…?"

That's when I notice the flashing timer she had placed near the door on her way out. Shit. Time to hustle!

I turn back towards the entrance I came in by and make sure I put some distance between myself and the building. Despite the distance I manage to cover I'm still thrown into a stumble as the whole place erupts behind me in an explosion that's bigger than anything I've seen that wasn't in a god damned movie. Turning to look, my eyes go wide. The whole place has erupted into a giant ball of flame, the delivery truck and cars in the immediate vicinity are also caught up in the inferno and trigger their own smaller explosions.

Shit, she always did know how to make an entrance…and an exit.

My thoughts immediately return to Hit-Girl. Where is she? I can't see clearly to the other side of the warehouse against the glare of the flames. It'll also take me a while to circumvent the destruction to get over there. That's when I finally see a shadowy form limned by the flames sprinting away from the inferno in the opposite direction.

It's her. But where the hell is she going? Why the fuck isn't she turning around?

"Hit-Girl!" I scream, but she obviously can't hear me from this distance and over the noise of the destruction still raining down around us. I haul ass and try run so that I'll cross her path, but by the time I get to the other side of site she's nowhere to be seen. The darkness has swallowed her up completely and I have no idea where she may have gone.

I just stand there, dejected and confused. That *had* to have been her. There's no way any copy-cat could have done what she just did…it was flawless. That just leaves me with one question.

What the hell is going on?


	2. Chapter 2 - Dazed & Confused

**Chapter 2 – Dazed & Confused**

I barely wait for the phone to pick up on the other end before I blurt out, "Marcus I saw her! I saw Mindy!"

Marcus sighs and I can almost see him rubbing his fingers on the bridge of his nose and shaking his head as he says, "Dave, we've talked about this. I know you really want to have her back, hell I want her back just as bad, but we have to face facts: Mindy's gone and she's not coming back."

There's no way even Marcus wants Mindy back as much as I do, but I'm not interested in arguing about that particular point right now.

"No, just listen to me, ok?! I *saw* her. Not just a glimpse, not a shadow, not a fucking hallucination, ok? I saw her take down a room full of gun-running scum bags and I'm looking at the destruction to prove it!"

"What?!" he says sharply and I smile as know I have his attention. "How do you know it was her?" he asks trying to keep the mixed hope and worry out of his voice. "It could have been some new masked vigilante, maybe even a copy-cat."

"You didn't see her Marcus it was amazing. Besides," I say as I look behind me with a wry grin, "I'm looking at a smoking crater that says this was all Mindy."

He's silent at that for a few moments.

"So what did she say?" he says finally.

I swallow and sigh before I respond. "Not much really. We didn't…we didn't really get a chance to talk."

"What?! Why not?"

"She kind of took off."

His sigh is long and drawn out. "I think you'd better come over here so we can talk."

"Yeah," I respond. "Things are about to get even hotter over here anyway."

I hang up and lope off into the night just as I hear the sirens of the approaching emergency vehicles wailing in the distance.

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><p><em>Interlude - two years previous:<em>

_The banging on Dave's door was getting louder and whoever it was hadn't even given him time to get there after the first knock. Whoever it was better have a good fucking explanation or Dave was going to…_

_That thought left his head as he wrenched open the door and saw Mindy's step-father standing on the stoop glaring at him. _

_"Uh, hi, Mr…..uh…"_

_"You know damn well who I am, boy. Where is she?!"_

_"Who?" asked Dave, hoping the nervousness on his face was translating as actual confusion._

_If possible the man's glare got even harsher and he made to step inside the house. He was stopped, and obviously somewhat shocked, when Dave refused to move. Marcus gave Dave a quick once over, apparently deciding there was more to the boy than he had looked for._

_"Ok, let's play it that way. Where's my daughter? Where's Mindy?"_

_"Mindy? Macready?" said Dave, making sure to use his best falsetto. "How should I know? Do you mean she's not at home?"_

_Marcus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, obviously trying to hold in his anger and frustration. Dave could sympathize, but that didn't mean he was going to make this easy. He'd been half expecting something like this, though he had hoped he had a few days to prepare himself for the visit._

_"Look…Dave? I know who you are and I know you and Mindy are…tight. I need to know where my daughter is. Now!"_

_"What do you mean you know who I…"_

_"I mean that I know how you spend your nights…with my daughter."_

_A look of shock came over Dave's face as he glanced down at the man's sidearm and his life started flashing before his eyes. Had the rumours from school made it to Mindy's step-father? Was Dave about to be shot for something he hadn't even done…however much the fact that he *hadn't* was starting to gnaw at him? "Nights? With…Mindy?"_

_Marcus' grin was feral. "Take it easy, son. I mean your *other* nocturnal activities."_

_"My other…?" Dave looked up at Marcus, shock apparent on his face. "I, uh, don't know what you mean, sir."_

_"Cut the bullshit, Kick-Ass."_

_Dave froze. He wasn't quite sure how to play this one. He knew that Marcus was aware of Mindy's alter-ego, but he was pretty certain she hadn't divulged his identity to anyone._

_Marcus let Dave stew and stutter for a few more minutes before he broke in. "Look, it doesn't exactly take a genius, kid. Your father takes the rap for being Kick-Ass and at his funeral you're attacked and taken by thugs working for the so-called Motherfucker? Then Mindy lights out and causes the shit storm to end all shit storms to get your sorry ass out? 2 + 2 = 4."_

_Dave ran his hand across his eyes. He could feel the cold sweat that had broken out across his forehead. "So…where are the rest of the police?"_

_"Like I said, it doesn't take a genius, but you do need a few brain cells to rub together. It also helps to know who Mindy is…of course that's become public knowledge so I may only be a day or two ahead of them."_

_Dave steeled himself and looked at Marcus. "Alright, take me in then. I guess I always knew this day was coming. I don't regret anything."_

_Marcus looked at the boy in surprise as he extended his hands for the cuffs. This kid certainly had more stones than first appearances had led him to believe._

_"I don't approve of what Mindy did," began Marcus, "what either of you do. But…but I understand it. I didn't come here to arrest you Dave. I just came to find my daughter."_

_Dave sighed sadly, putting his arms back at his side._

_"You're too late Mr. Williams, Mindy's already left. I don't think she's coming back."_

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><p>I drop off my uniform at the safe house and take a shower to help me decompress and give me time to try and process everything from tonight before I get back into my civvies to go and see Marcus. I haven't been by in a while. Marcus and I talked quite a bit after Mindy first left, both of us waiting for her to contact us and then trying to find her ourselves when it didn't look like she was going to.<p>

Nothing panned out.

Eventually Marcus accepted that Mindy had cut her ties and decided that maybe it was for the best. He never did approve of her real life as Hit-Girl and the fact that the tiny terror hadn't been in the news since her departure, and no obvious 'new' heroes seemed to mirror her style, convinced him that she had decided to put the life behind her. In a way he was happy even if it meant he wasn't likely to see her again. In a weird way he'd won.

I just ended up getting more and more miserable.

You can say it was only a kiss, that's certainly what I told myself for the first few weeks after she left. I even thought it was a pretty good joke that she had played on me. Then, when it became apparent that I wasn't going to hear from her any time soon I started to think about it. I started to think about what it made me feel regardless of what I'd been telling myself. It was a kiss that made me realize not only what I felt about her deep inside, but also what I realized I was hoping she might feel about me. Of course the fact that she hadn't bothered trying to contact me for a few months by that point caused me to doubt the last part. I had to admit to myself that I was pretty certain about the first part though.

So there I was realizing that I was falling in love with the girl who had been my partner and friend for years and who I'd only ever treated as my kid sister and terrifying mentor. And now she was gone.

The criminals of New York started bearing the brunt of my frustration and I can't say that I'm sorry that it hardened my edge. I think Mindy would have been proud. They became almost as afraid of me as they had been of her.

I didn't exactly tell Marcus everything that was going on in my head, he didn't even know about the kiss, but I think he started to figure things out just by my attitude.

When the police really started cracking down on costumed heroes again he even tried to get me to quit being Kick-Ass, but I gave him a long-ass speech about honouring Mindy's memory and not backing down on the good fight. I think that made things pretty clear for him and he just shook his head. We had an understanding: I wouldn't try and get him to pull strings for me with the police or do anything to compromise his place as a detective and he wouldn't turn me in or keep badgering me about quitting.

So anyway, it meant that after our attempt to find Mindy had failed we didn't have a lot of reason to hang out together. We were never really that comfortable around each other anyway…especially after Marcus began to suspect how I felt about Mindy.

After the 'hallucinations' I had called him again. First it was to try and get him to see if he could confirm that she was back, then eventually just so I could try and convince myself that I wasn't going crazy. He didn't help much with either.

As I turn up the walk to the house I look around, wondering if Mindy might be watching from a discreet vantage, but nothing is obvious. I shove my hands into my pockets after ringing the bell and hunch my shoulders. Why do I still let myself get depressed whenever I come here? Is it because of memories of Mindy, or is it the disapproval I know is waiting for me from Marcus?

"Dave, c'mon in," says Marcus as he opens the door. He's trying to look nonchalant, but I can see the concern on his face. I wonder whether he's more worried that Mindy isn't back or that she actually might be.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Just water thanks."

I follow Marcus into the kitchen and sit down at the table, pointedly ignoring the pictures of Mindy as I walk past them.

"Still having trouble adjusting?" asks Marcus as he hands me a glass. Of course he noticed my unwavering gaze.

I shrug and then take a sip of water.

"I'm worried about you Dave. It isn't healthy for you to obsess like this. I love that little girl, but I think we both know that what happened ended up being for the best."

"Do we?!" I snap, surprised at my own vehemence.

Marcus is surprised too. "Yeah…I think we do."

I shake my head. "Look, I know you think all of this means that Mindy stopped fighting crime, but if you know her half as well as you think then you know that would be almost impossible for her…and even if she did you would know how unhappy it would make her. Mindy is who she is, and if you loved her you'd accept it instead of trying to change her into something she's not!"

I see the anger flash behind his eyes at that, but I don't give a fuck at this point. By now I'm way beyond being physically threatened by Marcus.

I continue on, heedless of Marcus' displeasure. "And that means one of two things to me: Mindy stopped being who she is, or couldn't be it due to external circumstances, which means she's in trouble…or she kept doing it, but managed to be surreptitious enough not to make waves. Either way we have no idea what she's been through and assuming the best because we want to is just a shitty way of trying not to care!"

Marcus' knuckles go white where they are gripping the edge of the table. I simply stare him down. I almost hope he'll take a shot at me, in some ways this has been a long time coming.

Marcus seems to deflate after a moment and closes his eyes. "I know why you see things that way Dave, but believe me I have Mindy's best interests at heart. Just because you want something doesn't mean it's the right thing to do."

"Yeah, I guess sometimes that's the case, but you and I both know it isn't the case for Mindy…or me."

"Alright, fuck it, I'm tired of having this argument with you. We both think we know what's best for Mindy and we're never going to agree."

I shake my head. "No. *You* think you know what's best for Mindy, I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt on her own choices."

"Which just so happen to be the same ones you made," adds Marcus with chagrin.

I shrug. "I can't help it if we're both smart."

"Right, not delusional at all?"

"I'm not delusional Marcus."

"Is that why you're still insisting that you're seeing Mindy everywhere but in plain sight?"

"C'mon, do you really think she'd do *anything* in plain sight at this point? She sure as fuck learned her lesson the last time she did anything good for the people of New York 'in plain sight'. I doubt that recent actions by the government and police forces across the country have changed her attitude!"

"Alright, granted that's true why the hell wouldn't she at *least* try and contact us…or given my known opinions on the subject, you?"

I deflate at that.

"I…I don't know."

Marcus puts his hand on my shoulder and I flinch before I realize he's looking at me with eyes tinged with sadness. "Dave, I know how bad you want this to be true, but I just don't know how this could be Mindy and she wouldn't bother to contact you of all people."

"So…you think I'm Big Daddy-crazy at this point?"

Marcus shakes his head. "No, I know you saw *something*. The call came in over the radio after you called me: huge explosion and ongoing fire in the warehouse district; arson suspected, but not yet confirmed; possible 'superhero' involvement."

"So…?"

"So someone blew up that warehouse and if it wasn't you then we've got a new 'hero' on the scene. I just really don't think it's Mindy regardless of what you think you saw."

I shake my head.

"Fine, but I'm telling you this isn't a copy-cat. It's Mindy."

"I know," says Marcus, his jaw clenching tightly. "Look, just watch yourself, ok? This fire is a big deal and they're going to be cracking down even harder now. I think you better lay low for a while. For your own safety."

"Yeah sure, "I reply. We both know I'm lying.


	3. Chapter 3 - Ups & Downs

**Chapter 3 - Ups & Downs**

I return to the safe house half expecting to find Mindy waiting for me with a smirk on her face and a joke on her lips. No such luck.

I drop myself onto the couch and stare off into the distance for a few minutes before shaking myself out of it. Looking around I notice for the first time in a long time all of the changes that I've made to the safe house since moving in. I wonder what Mindy would think of them? Ever since I moved in permanently I started adding things to make it more like home…though I made sure not to remove anything Mindy had already set up. It was mostly just pictures, rearranging the layout of the gym, adding a few bits and pieces of furniture…that kind of stuff, but somehow it seems like my space now.

Marcus had been right about the cops back when he had initially confronted me about Mindy. They weren't too far behind him in putting two and two together and I only just managed to cash out my meager savings along with what my dad had left me after he died (minus the house) and pack what I needed from home so I could beat a hasty retreat before they were swarming the house. The house itself was virtually a write-off…they couldn't seize it, but I was also unable to either use it or sell it to get the proceeds. Considering I was still free I considered myself well-off anyway.

I probably could have stuck it out…played stupid and gambled on the chance that their evidence about my real identity was purely circumstantial, but I didn't want to chance it. Might as well cut my losses and make sure I didn't end up with an extended stay in prison.

Of course that meant I might as well have left with Mindy and I think that's what burns me the most. Why did I just stand there gawking at her like a fool as she rode out of my life instead of jumping on her bike and grabbing my chance by the horns?

Of course maybe Mindy didn't want that. Given today's little adventure I'm starting to wonder if that's not the case.

I sigh heavily. Shit. Well, at least she didn't blow me up tonight, even if she didn't want to bother talking to me after more than two years.

I'm not going to sleep anytime soon, that's for sure, so I go into the gym, strip down to my shorts and t-shirt, and proceed to run through my standard workout. True to form I start to loosen up part way through and by the end, when I go through the katas with my batons, I'm feeling much more clear-headed.

After another shower I'm feeling relaxed enough to actually sleep. Of course it's already 4 in the morning, but at least the buzzing thoughts in my head have slowed down to a dull moan. Mindy can wait until tomorrow.

* * *

><p>When I wake up the clock by the bed says 1:35. I haven't slept-in this long for a while, even considering how late I crashed last night. I roll onto my back and close my eyes after taking a deep breath.<p>

So what am I gonna do today? Or more accurately, how am I going to do it?

Even if Mindy is in the city - and I am still certain she is - I know from experience that she's not the easiest mark to track down when she doesn't want to be found. I could wait and hope that she'll show up, either at the safe house or a crime scene, but I really don't know if I can manage the strain to my nerves that just sitting on my hands and waiting would cause.

I have to do something, even if I'm only fooling myself and keeping my mind busy. It's better than slowly going crazy. Part of me worries that it's already too late to avoid that.

I haul my ass out of bed and pad into the kitchen. After some scrounging I find a box of Froot Loops that isn't completely empty and some milk that's only a couple of days past the expiration date. I guess it's time to get some more supplies.

After breakfast and two cups of coffee – I never stint on that – I throw on some clothes, set the safe house alarm, and head out into the city.

Dave Lizewski isn't exactly the NYPD's most wanted these days…it's been two years since the really intensive stuff kicked in and things have settled down a bit. The cops and I have something of an understanding: so long as I don't poke my nose out too blatantly, and I keep my crime fighting on the down-low, I can still get out into the city without the union suit on if I've got at least a rudimentary disguise.

I cut my hair short immediately after running and I've kept it pretty close to my scalp ever since. I also let my facial hair grow in a bit, though it's not a full beard or anything. Prescription sunglasses complete the look along with non-descript baggy clothes. So far it's worked pretty well. And at least I haven't had to worry about wearing a wig or fake beard to go out in public.

That said Marcus' warning is apt. A blown-up warehouse filled with enough mangled guns to supply a small army and at least a dozen dead bodies is a bit bigger than anything I've been getting into lately, so there's likely to be a bit more scrutiny than I'd like. Still, a guy's gotta eat and, more importantly, I need to see if I can get any leads on Mindy.

At least there were no eye witnesses to place Kick-Ass at the scene. Of course 'possible superhero involvement' usually means 'Kick-Ass' as far as the cops are concerned. Hopefully this wasn't one of Gigantes' 'side jobs', otherwise I really will have a swarm down on my ass.

I pick up a few necessities at the closest corner store and return to the safe house using one of my round-about indirect routes that intersects with a dead drop I've had set up for a while. I don't find any messages so it appears that neither Marcus nor any of my old Justice Forever compatriots who didn't completely walk away from the life have anything they need to communicate with me that they didn't feel comfortable using a burner cell for. I'm not surprised, but I am a little disappointed. I don't spot any tails as I meander back and forth along my route home and eventually return to the safe house to put away the groceries and try to come up with a more coherent plan of action.

So…Mindy's back. I refuse to accept any other possibilities. No copy-cat could have done what I saw last night. Well, ok one *could*, but I worked with Mindy long enough to be able to recognize her signature. That was definitely Hit-Girl last night.

She's obviously laying low since she hasn't tried to contact either Marcus or myself. Not encouraging, but not totally surprising either. She probably just got into town and wants to see what her status is before she sticks her neck out in any way. It's only smart, right? I figure my best bet is to do a quick fly-by of some of the old safe house locations she used to use before everything went to shit and they were compromised (luckily I was able to get to some of the equipment and relocate it to the last safe house before the cops found them and confiscated everything).

I am assuming those won't pan out…even if Mindy *did* check on her old locations to assess their status she'd do it from a distance and has probably already done so. Still, it's better to check every option. I really hope they do pan out though, since my next best option is to figure out what was going on at the warehouse last night and hope that it can lead me back to Mindy since she obviously knew that something was up there. That will be a lot more tricky…assuming I'm even able to dig anything up at all.

I decide to suit up for my reconnaissance of the old safe houses, but as I get ready I find myself dragging my feet. I'm still hoping Mindy will show up here and I don't want to miss her. Finally I decide that I can't wait any longer, I'm just wasting time and the sooner I start the sooner I *might* have something to show for it.

* * *

><p>I was right. There isn't any sign of her at any of the old locations and I can't even get a bead on whether someone has been there to check them out recently or not.<p>

Sitting on a rooftop across from the last location I slouch back and start thinking about the warehouse last night.

Something brought Mindy back to New York - and to that warehouse in particular. It was full of guns and, despite their poor performance against Hit-Girl, it had obviously been manned by people who knew what they were doing. So it's either organized crime or some kind of off-the-books military operation. Given Mindy's involvement I'll assume the former.

That leaves me with a few options. Ralph D'Amico is still running his family's holdings from prison, but he tends to keep things more circumspect than filling a warehouse with guns. Also he's still got a pretty tenacious grip on things even if it was considerably loosened by the death of his brother and then his nephew's ill-advised foray into super-villainy. To me this smells of some rival family trying to take advantage of his possible weakness to stockpile resources and horn in on the action. Who else would need to quietly ship in a shit-ton of small arms to the city? Of course even if I'm right I have no idea where to start. How did Mindy get wind of this? And here I am again back at the beginning. _Sigh._

I stand up and roll my head on my neck to loosen the muscles and then crack my knuckles. Oh well, looks like I'm going to have to go fishing. It's been a while, but at least for that I have some idea of where to start.

* * *

><p>It's not until the third dive bar, and the twelfth punk to have his teeth smashed in, that I start getting something approximating a useful answer. Prior to this it was all "Vinnie's got a line on some great contraband" or "I swear we were just doing a little dealing on the side!", but as I hear this punk's jaw go crunch against the bar the mumbled "Dmitri's behind it! It's Dmitri, shit please don't hurt me anymore!" I think I may be on to something.<p>

I let go of his neck and watch as he crumples into a heap on the floor.

"Dmitri?! Who's that?!" I bark. Then I lean down close to his face, watching closely as the blood and snot dribble over his lower lip. I notice that at least three of his front teeth are now missing and another two are dangling by a thread. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

He looks at me with fear in his eyes, but I notice that he also spares a glance for the other punks that are keeping their distance around us. Despite his stated desire to keep me happy the guy suddenly clams up. I glance back at the people he had looked to then stand up.

"Alright, it looks like we are having a failure of communication here."

I crack my knuckles and glare at the figures milling about in the corner. I notice that they seem to have a number of tattoos peeking out near their wrists and necks and, along with the name, I make a guess. "Bratva is it?"

The men just stare stonily at me, but I know I've hit on something. "So, that's great. Now all I need is for you tell me where I can find Dmitri so we can have a little chat and you can all get back to having a nice drink with a few of your teeth still left."

One of the thugs in the corner glances at his buddy then looks back at me. Good, now I know where the weak one is and who knows Dmitri. His friend, however, doesn't seem too impressed and when he opens his mouth of course it isn't what I want to hear.

"I hear your little psycho bitch friend hasn't been around for some time and all of those misguided fools who used to follow you around like retarded children on Halloween have hung up their masks. From what I can see," here he spares a glance for the other goons in the bar, "we have you outnumbered by quite a margin. Beating on that whelp won't get you anything from us but a slit throat."

As if to back up his threat he pulls out a switchblade and his compatriots seem to gather courage at his bravado, even the timid one beside him.

I sigh, putting on a show of drawing my batons. I have to admit that I am a little concerned…it's been a while since I've tried to take on a room full of guys without any backup. I check the layout quickly, deciding where my best points of defense are and then, just when they start to move towards me, I lower my batons. That makes them pause.

"You know what? You're right I don't know what I was thinking." I say and just as they start to glance at each other, some with grins and others confused grimaces, I whip out one of my batons and it flies across the room, cracking Switchblade in the face and dropping him.

While they're still trying to figure out what just happened I sprint to the nearest table, jump on top of it, then use it to make a leap for the guy I see trying to pull out his gun.

I smash into him and crack my baton across his face before rolling off of him into a crouch and sweeping out the leg of the next nearest guy. His kneecap makes a nice crunching sound and he goes down with a scream. I smile. It's always good to make sure they make a lot of noise…gives the other guys something to think about.

By now there is mass confusion. Some of the less gutsy goons are milling about wondering if maybe taking me on isn't such a great idea. I need to thin them out some more while they're still confused otherwise they really will just pile on and then I'm fucked. Hopefully they're not all part of the same crew.

Luckily it seems they're not. The two nearest the door immediately sprint out and my odds just got a little bit better. I upend a table and throw it towards a knot of thugs to try and break them up. One of them actually goes down beneath the table and while that keeps people occupied I pull a smoke grenade from my belt and toss it into the mix.

Everyone goes apeshit.

I take the opportunity to jump behind the bar, but make sure I've got my eyes on the dude who kept looking at Switchblade. He makes a beeline for the back and I run after him while everyone else is still shouting and rambling about in the confusion trying to figure out where I ended up.

Just as he steps out the back door I fly into him from behind and his face makes a pleasing smacking noise on the pavement. I stand up and grab him by the hair, lifting him easily.

"Alright Boris, come with me. We're going to have a little chat."

"How…how you know my name…?" he stutters. I just shake my head and roll my eyes. Who would have figured?


	4. Chapter 4 - Now & Then

**Chapter 4 - Now & Then**

Boris isn't very forthcoming at first, but once I've hauled him to a nearby rooftop and instigated some interrogation techniques that would lead me to see if he can act like a bird he starts to sing like one.

Turns out my guess was right. Dmitri is a mid-level Bratva Boevik who wants to be made captain. He had been stymied in his own city, bad blood between old members or something and unfair grudges being held…Boris is now getting altogether too chatty with details I don't give a shit about so I give him some incentive to cut to the chase.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he screams. "Please stop hitting me! We leave Miami and come here when he receive word through discreet channels that head of D'Amico family is having problems…his hold is loosening, and heroes are now all but dead." He looks at me with something like apology in his eyes at the last bit.

Now this is interesting. "Discreet channels? What are they?"

Boris raises his hands to his face, starting to shake again. "I don't know! I don't know! I only heard him mention to Sasha that he would see if shark bait was good for anything and that they had a plan for mobilising to New York. Lots of guns! Warehouse locations. Contacts in the local branch that could use the help. He laughed a lot, but I had no idea what he meant. That's all I know!"

I'm puzzled at that. What a weird thing to say. Shark bait? Did he mean they were going to throw chum into the water in New York and see what…then my line of thought jumps to something else and my eyes go wide. Shit! It can't be that, can it?

I grip Boris by the lapels and haul him towards my face.

"Listen to me scumbag! You are going to tell me *every word* you heard in that conversation and tell me where Dmitri is *right now* or we really are going to see if you can fly!"

Just to prove my point I grab him by the scruff of the neck and start dragging him towards the building's edge. It's music to my ears when he starts screaming and the words start spilling like puke out of a frat pledge's lips on rush week. Sometimes I love my job.

* * *

><p>After making a discreet call to the cops and leaving Boris zip-tied to a telephone pole I scout out Dmitri's apparent location. According to Boris he's holed up in another warehouse, but this one is some distance from the one Hit-Girl blew up the other night. I imagine he wants to keep a low profile until he can figure out what happened and decide what move he should make.<p>

I imagine he's shitting himself by now. It doesn't sound like he has too many more resources that he can pull into this…Boris thinks he blew his entire nest egg on the guns. It also sounds like he didn't exactly have the blessing of his superiors when he came to New York. He was counting on a quick and effective strike to establish himself so that his own superiors (not to mention the local branch of the Bratva) wouldn't be able to complain and would almost have to award him the promotion he wanted.

Of course now that he had fucked it all up, or more precisely since Hit-Girl had fucked it all up for him, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Ralph D'Amico now had precise knowledge about someone trying to horn in on his action and the Bratva had to either silence Dmitri before he was found or offer him up with apologies if they didn't want to start an all-out gang war. He had his friends *and* his enemies out for his blood. It was surprising that he even had any more of his own men still backing him.

By all appearances, therefore, Dmitri isn't all that bright and he's also running scared, both of those things should give me an advantage…of course they also mean that he might act erratically which isn't always the best thing.

I can't stop my mind from going back to Boris' mention of 'shark bait' and the tip-off to Dmitri of opportunities in New York. If it means what I'm now almost certain it means then there's one more fucking huge problem back that I thought was out of my life for good. It also might explain why Mindy came back gunning for blood when these clowns might have actually been a thorn in D'Amico's side…assuming of course that she's been holed up in Miami all this time and that it was these guys in particular that brought her back. All the pieces fit, so I have to assume that's the case. Well, at least it might mean that this fucking bunch of clowns can get me some kind of lead on where she is…whether directly or indirectly. Silver linings and all that, right?

I've been scoping out the warehouse for about an hour and haven't seen any appreciable movement. I've seen the two guards that are doing a circuit of the grounds, but getting past them shouldn't be too difficult…Dmitri's resources are obviously spread pretty thin. There are a couple of security cameras too, but they also seem pretty simple to evade.

I look at my watch. It's getting late…or early. If I'm going to do anything tonight I better do it now. I can't wait anymore for the chance that Hit-Girl might show up. I'll just have to go in guns blazing and hope that I can pull out some intel before everything goes utterly to shit.

I check my equipment one last time and then descend from my perch to infiltrate the building. It turns out that evading both the guards and cameras in my vicinity are as easy as I'd hoped. I press myself against the wall to quickly scan the area before clambering up to the mid-sized ledge above me that circles the perimeter of the wall and leads to the windows.

I crouch in front of the nearest window, waiting for the guard below me to continue on in his circuit. I smile as I ease myself up to the window to peek inside and get an idea of what I'm dealing with. My smile freezes on my face when I see what's going on in there and my blood goes cold.

At first I can't even quite parse what I'm seeing, it looks so impossible. Several agonizing seconds drag on while I try to get my brain to confirm what I'm seeing. I shake my head, unable to deny what my senses are telling me: Hit-Girl is strapped to a chair in the middle of the large warehouse floor having the unholy shit beaten out of her by a goon with a lead pipe.

I swear that my mind goes blank and all I can see is red.

* * *

><p>She's never felt this much pain in her body before, and this is a girl who knows from pain. You could say that pain was her mother's milk, but she's never been quite this helpless. How the hell did she let herself get into this situation? How could she have been so stupid? One minute she's blowing these Russian fuck-wads to Kingdom Come the next she gets nabbed on a simple infiltration to get the final answers she needs.<p>

It's not her fault though. Her mind was totally on the game until *he* had to go and show up. She thought she'd be able to keep away until these pissants had been dealt with and then she could just slip back into oblivion. Of course her old partner had to go and fuck that up by blundering across her and almost getting himself killed…again. So of course she had to show herself to save his sorry ass and now she'd been compromised. Fuck!

White hot pain arches up her leg as the fucktard with the pipe bashes on her again. "What, bitch?! No smart come-backs now?! We are going to fuck you up good…then we'll just fuck you for good measure!"

She rolls her head until she's looking into his eyes. She knows that he won't see any fear there and that disconcerts him. She smiles at his discomfort. "Whatever fuck-wad. All I know is that no matter who catches you first, whether it's D'Amico or your own fucking people, you are going to be fucked so hard in the ass that cum's gonna spew out of your goddam throat!"

He raises his pipe again, but she doesn't flinch.

"Wait!" yells a voice from behind and the lead dip-shit, Dmitri, walks towards them. "What you say may be true," he admits, "and you obviously have a high threshold for pain, but that only means we will enjoy this longer. Whatever happens to us I guarantee you that we will have the last laugh as far as you are concerned."

She knows that he's right, but she won't give him the satisfaction of letting him know that so she just glowers at him. Glancing away from his face she looks over towards the far wall and can't help herself from breaking into a grin at what she sees. She makes sure to immediately look away from the area and back at Dmitri's face. He narrows his eyes at the slow grin that he sees spreading across her features.

"Don't be too sure of that fucker," she grits through her blood-spattered teeth.

He looks mildly confused, but is obviously willing to chalk it up to bravado. He would expect no less of the infamous Hit-Girl after all. He leans down towards her face. "Oh I am quite sure. I feel the punch line coming on."

She spits blood into his face and actually starts to laugh. "Oh man! You aren't even trying to be funny, but I couldn't have said it better myself. Heh…here comes the punchline fucker!"

Anger flashes across his face, but he holds himself back and simply stands, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face. "Nikolai, please continue…but do try to avoid any serious injuries. We want this to last after all."

Suddenly a gunshot rings out and Nikolai drops the pipe, his body swaying for a few seconds as the blood trickles down his forehead from the exit wound before it crumples to the floor. The lights in the warehouse go out and a voice screams out, "You fuckers are all dead!"

* * *

><p>I feel the rage seething in my veins and I can barely control myself as I pop the window and drop down to the floor. Something in the back of my mind says I have to do this right though, I can't just rush in as much as it's killing me to see Mindy being beaten to a pulp.<p>

Luckily everyone's attention is focused on the girl they have strapped to the chair. She's talking to some big Russian in a suit, the guy with the lead pipe standing off to the side. No one seems to be too worried about visitors. I guess they figure they have time before their number comes up. I'm going to be fucking pleased to prove them wrong.

I make my way to the junction box and on my way I grab a gun they had left lying on a table. I check the magazine to confirm that it's loaded. Man, these fuckers are just a bright bunch aren't they?

I position my night vision goggles on top of my head and then pull one of my batons from its sheath before drawing a bead on the asshole with the pipe. I don't generally like using guns, but I can make exceptions and this is one time I'm more than fucking happy to. Luckily I haven't skimped on target practice since I had to do my training by myself. I want them to see this one before it all goes to hell and I savour the sensation as my finger slowly squeezes on the trigger.

The guy with the pipe is going to be one of the lucky ones…he doesn't even feel it when the bullet rips through the back of his skull and exits his frontal lobe. I smash the junction box with my baton and pull down the goggles as the lights go out. "You fuckers are all dead!" I scream as I move towards the knot of gangsters milling around my girl.

I fire into the crowd of them, making sure my shots are all placed higher than the figure prone in the chair. Five of them drop and aren't getting up again. I still have bullets in the cartridge, but this is fucking personal and I have no plan to let them all go down so easy.

Wading into the middle of a bunch of gangsters sounds like a frightening proposition and normally I'd have to admit that part of me would be shitting myself, but I'm so enraged at what they're doing that I don't have any room left in my brain for anything but hate. Pulling out my second baton I start smashing faces left and right, easily side-stepping their blind swings.

One of them gets in a stray hit, knocking my head to the side. I just grab his arm, twist it and then fracture his bone near the elbow. His scream is like sweet music to my ears and I duck just as one of his buddies spins around and fires his gun…right into the face of his compatriot who had the same idea and who drops him with a bullet at the same time. If I was thinking straight I'd probably laugh at how cool it looks when they both crumple to the ground, as it is I just want to cause more pain to the fuckers.

I hear commotion near one of the doors…must be the guards coming in to see what the hell is going on. I make my way behind a pillar as the knot in the middle of the room is considerably thinned out and they are all screaming for lights. Some of them are even blind firing where they think I might be until screams and wild curses tell them to stop fucking shooting in the dark.

One of the guards turns on a flashlight and as the beam cuts through the darkness I drop him with a shot to the head. The flashlight drops to the floor, spinning in an arc before it stops pointed directly at the second guard as he comes in through the same doorway the first one used. He goes down with three shots to the head and sternum. I drop to a crouch as my gun clicks out of ammo. Rolling away from the pillar I sprint towards a goon stupid enough to move towards where the gunfire came from. I throw the gun at his head and then follow with a flying kick that drops him to the ground.

By now things have gone quiet and there is only one man left. As luck would have it it's Dmitri. I can see through the goggles that he's spinning around wildly, aiming his gun at any noise that breaks the silence. I creep up on him, my jaw clenching in anger.

"Alexei? Grigory? Misha?"

"They're all dead!" I rasp and as he spins towards me I easily knock his gun hand aside and smash my palm into his face. I break his nose, but I make sure it isn't a killing blow. His gun drops from nerveless fingers and I grab him by the neck, unwilling to let him hit the ground.

I squeeze his larynx as I pull him back up. The gurgle in his throat makes me grin.

"You were doing some very bad things, Dmitri."

His eyes are wide and I look down as I hear the piss escaping from his bladder and puddling on the floor.

"You wanted to be a Bratva captain?" I ask incredulously. "What a fucking pussy!"

Dmitri seems like he's beyond speech, but I need to know one more thing before I take care of more important things. "Tell me about shark bait," I growl, putting my face mere inches from his.

He seems confused, though whether it's from his fear and pain or the apparent non sequitur I don't know. I shake him for good measure and his eyes clear up a little.

"Shark…shark bait…" comprehension dawns in his eyes. "You'll…you'll let me live, right? You'll take me to the police? If I tell you?"

"Of course," I murmur, trying to swallow my rage at this man and what he was doing. "Tell me what I want to know and you live."

He nods his head enthusiastically. "Right, right…it was D'Amico…the young one…the psychotic costume-wearing freak…" he stops, then looks at me as though he's worried I'm going to take offense at this after all he's already said and done. I just nod at him to continue.

"He's alive. His uncle…he kept him alive, but he's being…punished…for what he did. He wants to…clear the slate. He told me…told me where his uncle was weak and where he wasn't keeping a close eye on things."

"Where is he?!" I yell.

Dmitri's eyes go wide. "I don't know! I don't know where he is! I…I didn't care!"

"Too bad for you I do," I grit from between my teeth.

"It's true! I swear!"

"Oh I believe you," I say. "Good bye, Dmitri."

He looks around in confusion as I wrap my arms around his neck.

"No! No! You promised you said…"

"You didn't tell me what I wanted to know," I state before snapping his neck. I let his body drop to the ground and close my eyes for a moment before I raise my head and look over to where Mindy is still sitting, everything else forgotten when I see her battered and bruised body.

I run up to her and can't help myself from caressing her face, looking closely at the bruises and blood that I see there. She shivers slightly at my touch and I can't tell if it's because of her wounds or something else.

"Shit, are you ok?"

"Always with the stupid questions Kick-Ass? The fuck does it look like?!" she growls. I look into her eyes and I'm a bit confused at the anger I see there…then again she was just taking a world class beating before I managed to intervene.

"Yeah, right…sorry. Here let me help you." I proceed to free her hands from their bonds and quickly move down to her legs.

I offer up a tentative smile as I undo the last restraint. "I know it's not under the best circumstances, but I'm really glad to see you again."

Hit-Girl just rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you gonna start crying now or something? Please spare me the hysterics. I don't need a whiny bitch show right now, ok?"

I'm a bit deflated, but I nod, "Yeah sure, no problem Hit-Girl."

She stands up from the chair with a wobble and rubs at her raw wrists. Her other injuries seem pretty serious, but when I reach my hand out to help her she steps back and glares at me like she doesn't need any help. Typical Hit-Girl.

"So," I say, drawing it out as I try to pretend I'm not anxious about the answer, "when did you get back to New York?"

"I dunno I've been here for a while," she says with a shrug.

I look at her closely, trying to see what's going on behind her eyes, but she won't let me look at her face.

"A while? What do you mean 'a while'? How long have you…?"

She shrugs again, "A couple months."

My eyes bug out and my pulse immediately spikes. Despite her condition I can't help but feel enraged and I let it out in the tone of my voice.

"A couple months?! Mindy…fuck! Do you have any idea…?" I clench my fists and can't even finish my sentence.

Her eyes narrow and she shoots a glance around the room at the use of her name, but at this point there's no one there that can overhear and quite frankly I don't give a shit anymore. She's been in the god damned city for two months and didn't even bother to contact me? She's been making me think I was seeing ghosts or going crazy and wasn't in any particular hurry to even let me know she was alive, let alone living in the same city as me?! What the actual fuck?!

"Shit *Dave*," she hisses making a point of using my name, "don't get your panties in a twist, what's the big deal?"

I splutter for a minute before I can manage to choke out, "Am I actually hearing this?! What's the big deal?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

"I'm Hit-Girl!" she growls.

All I can do is grimace and shake my head.

"Are you…are you fucking with me or something? 'You're Hit-Girl'! That's all you have to say?"

She looks at me for a beat before she simply says, "Yup," popping the p-sound off of her lips exaggeratedly.

At this point my mind just goes blank. I can't even process what's happening here. It's as though everything that I thought made up my reality has just crumbled into ruins. I think maybe it has. I think I actually zone out into some kind of fugue for a minute because by the time I'm aware of what's going on again Mindy is no longer standing in front of me. I see her limping towards the warehouse door.

"Wait a god damned minute!" I shout and I'm a bit surprised when she actually stops.

She doesn't turn around, but I don't care. I start walking towards her, my voice getting louder with each word.

"I just saved your fucking life! After waiting two god damned years to see you! You fucking blow out of town telling me to be a fucking hero, drop off the radar, don't even send a postcard to say you're alive and then you come back to town and can't be fucking bothered to even tell me you're fucking here?! FUCK!"

I literally scream the last word from only a few feet away from her and she actually jumps a bit. Part of me is glad at that.

"Do you have any idea what I've been going through?! Do you know what I've been feeling for two god damned years…alone…realizing the girl I'd fallen in love with might be dead in a fucking ditch, and if she wasn't she apparently didn't care enough to even tell me she was alive?! Do you know how hard I tried to find you?! Do you know all the fucking scenarios I ran through my head wondering where the hell you could be?!"

Mindy's shoulders sag for a moment, but it's only a moment, then she squares them again. She looks over her shoulder and narrows her eyes at me.

"Life's been tough all around Kick-Ass. You're not the only one with issues."

I clench my fists. Issues? Did she really just say that? She's got issues does she? I shake my head, the anger and bile rising in my throat until I think it's going to strangle me. Out of all of the scenarios for our reunion that I dreamed about - every god damned day I might add - for the past two years this one sure never came up. I'm utterly at a loss, so of course I fuck it all up.

"I knew you were a lot of things Mindy," I growl, my voice getting dangerously low, "but I didn't know you were a heartless cunt!" The minute the words leave my mouth I'm sorry, but I'm still so angry I can't find the words to apologize or even try and take them back.

She nods. "Well, at least now you know."

With that she starts shuffling towards the door again. Part of me wants to help her, to put my arm around her shoulder, to lift her up and carry her away. I desperately want to make this all right again, to make sure everything's okay despite what I just heard. Despite what I just said.

But instead I'm shaking and all I can do is stand and watch, until I suddenly feel dizzy and drop to my ass in a sitting position on the floor. By the time I look up again she's gone.


	5. Chapter 5 - Ends & Beginnings

**Chapter 5 - Ends & Beginnings**

I manage to get my shit together enough to get out of the warehouse before the cops, D'Amico's men, or the local Bratva show up. I figure whoever gets there first can clean up the mess and send Kick-Ass a thank you note.

I'm still stunned from Mindy's revelation. Why didn't she want to contact me? Why was she so angry? I just saved her ass in there, and while I was really just returning a favour owed her many times over I would have expected at least some kind of backhanded compliment from her.

She tried to keep me from seeing her in there, but I was able to look into her eyes at least once and I saw a haunted look that I would never have expected in Hit-Girl's eyes. Something was wrong. She needed my help. Unfortunately she wasn't exactly likely to accept it under the best of circumstances and we were now in a place very far from that. I had just sent her running as far from me as she could get thanks to my big fucking mouth.

Poor fucking Dave Lizewski. Is he sad because he didn't get to see Mindy for two years? Well who knows what the hell she had to go through in that time? Even if she didn't want to see me again it isn't like she owed me anything…I just wanted to believe that things between us were other than they obviously are.

All I could say for certain was that I had a friend who was hurting and I had to put my shit behind me so I could try and help her.

Of course that meant I had to find her.

* * *

><p>Day is breaking when I return to the safe house a ball of frustration. Even wounded Mindy had been able to get away without leaving any sign of where she'd gone.<p>

I was almost certain that she wouldn't go to a hospital or clinic, but I couldn't ignore any possibilities and so I checked them out, but there was no sign of her.

Where could she go to get her wounds taken care of? Obviously she had some kind of bolt-hole in the city…I now knew she'd been here for two months and that meant some kind of at least temporary residence.

Did she have another partner? A pang of jealousy stabbed through me, but I was able to stifle it when I figured that any partner she might have would have been backing her up at the warehouse unless she had gotten a lot sloppier than I thought Mindy was capable of becoming.

So she was alone in the city, wounded, and she thought the only partner she had hated her.

I drop down onto the couch and groan audibly as I put my face in my hands. "Fuck! What did I do Mindy?"

"Acted like a douchebag if you ask me," says a voice that I didn't think I'd ever hear again.

My head whips up and I see the dishevelled form of Hit-Girl limping out of the kitchen, an ice pack held to her leg.

I can feel the tears starting to form in my eyes. "Mindy! Holy shit…you're okay?! How did you…? When did you…? Shit. I'm so happy to see you," I finally manage to stutter out.

"Could have fooled me at the warehouse," she responds mechanically.

A frown creases my face. "I'm…I'm sorry Mindy. I was just so surprised. I thought…well it doesn't matter what I thought. I had no right to say those things. I'm just happy to see you."

"So…you changed the place around," she says looking around, apparently not interested in addressing the warehouse right now.

"Um, yeah I hope you like it."

"It doesn't totally suck," she says with a shrug. "The others were compromised, huh?"

"Yeah," I sigh, "I was only able to get a bit of the equipment out before the cops managed to track them…and me… down."

I stop and look at her for a minute, just taking her in. Even beat up and leaning against the wall she's beautiful.

"Mindy what have you been…"

"There's no time for that," she cuts in. "That fucker Chris is still alive and you just killed our only good lead to him."

"I what…?" I say, bewildered.

Mindy rolls her eyes. "Are you going deaf too?"

"Dmitri had no idea where Chris was," I start.

"So he said."

"Well, I believed him."

She scoffs. "Yeah I know. I think a little more effort in the interrogation might have been more effective in confirming that."

I shake my head. "All torture does is confirm what the questioner wants to hear. There was no need for that. We know Chris is alive. We'll find him."

"We?" she says, glaring at me and raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think I need your help?"

I grimace, but keep in the first retort that comes to my lips.

"How about the fact that you can barely stand?" I finally say as I get up and walk towards her, ignoring the hand she uses to wave me away as I put an arm around her shoulders and lead her to the couch.

"Just sit down you big baby."

She sits, but her continued glare lets me know that as far as she's concerned she's just doing this to humour me.

Okay, so she doesn't want to talk about where's she's been or how she came back. She doesn't want to talk about the warehouse, which is probably for the best all things considered. All she wants to do is find Chris, a goal with which I am in complete agreement, and she thinks she doesn't need my help, an idea that I plan on disabusing her of as quickly as possible. Well, at least we're not as far apart as I had feared. In the end she came here - even though she knew I'd be here - I can work with that.

I'm not sure if it'll be welcome, but I sit down next to Mindy and when she doesn't immediately hit me or tell me to fuck off I consider it a victory. I look at her and can feel the tension coming off of her. She doesn't look at me, just stares straight ahead and pretends like she's really interested in the far wall. It's the one where the picture of her and Big Daddy is still hanging, so maybe she is interested in it. I wait a few more minutes, but when it becomes obvious she isn't going to start a conversation I decide to break the ice.

"Look, let's get you cleaned up and check out your wounds, ok? We'll worry about Chris and…and all that other stuff later."

I'm surprised when she doesn't argue and so I get up and go for the first aid kit. I've got a pretty extensive one here and I've gotten pretty good at using it given that I've needed to patch myself up quite a bit over the last few years.

She gets up to go and clean herself off in the bathroom and comes back twenty minutes later looking a little less like death warmed over and wearing just a sports bra and her panties. I freeze for a moment when I see her.

"Don't get any ideas, perv," she growls. "I can't reach all my wounds myself and so you're going to need to check them out. Just keep your hands professional and we won't have any problems."

"Of course," I say with a hint of wounded pride. I do my best not to think about what I told her at the warehouse, or how the proximity to her nearly naked body is affecting me, and just concentrate on seeing how badly she's hurt.

When all is said and done she's actually not that bad off...at least considering what she's been through. She's going to have a shiner and several ugly bruises on her chest and legs. There don't appear to be any broken bones surprisingly. The worst injury is the leg the asshole with the pipe had been banging on, but when I start to get concerned about it she tells me to fuck off and that she can take care of it.

After she's bandaged up she gets up and heads for the bedroom. "I need some sleep. We can talk about this…partnership…in the morning."

"Uh sure," I say as she slams the door closed behind her, "…good night."

The couch isn't very comfortable, but neither is the knowledge that Mindy's on the other side of the bedroom door and she's obviously pissed as hell at me.

Part of me is a little indignant that she's managed to turn the tables and make me feel like the bad guy. I mean I am the one who just saved her ass and merely wanted some kind of explanation for why she hadn't bothered to contact me for the past two years, or even bothered to tell me when she came back.

I sigh knowing that holding onto this isn't going to help at all. Mindy is Mindy and if I expect her to act in some way approximating 'normal' under any circumstances then I'm fooling myself. All I can do right now is try and make sure she doesn't bolt again and see what I can salvage of our partnership. I'm still not sure if her use of the word on her way to bed was one that should inspire hope or anxiety in me.

* * *

><p>I jerk awake to sunlight on my face and quickly look around the safe house. There's no sign of Mindy out and about and the bedroom door is still closed.<p>

The clock says that it's 9:30. Not as bad as yesterday, but still sleeping in compared to my regular routine. Part of me is surprised Mindy isn't up already beating the shit out of a punching bag, but I guess even the mighty Hit-Girl needs to recuperate from time to time.

A sudden fear grips my chest that she's actually left already and I jump out of bed and get half-way to the bedroom door to check when I stop. I'm not sure that opening the door right now would be the best idea I've ever had. If she isn't there I'll figure it out soon enough and if she *is*? Well, let's just say I don't think she'll be too happy to be interrupted by a 'perv' like me disturbing her sleep after what she went through yesterday.

I decide to loosen up with a workout before I get some breakfast. I do some cardio and I've already finished a full set of weights and am just getting to work on a training dummy when I hear a voice behind me.

"Looks like you don't totally suck anymore Kick-Ass. Glad to see you've been training."

I spin around surprised that she can still sneak up on me even when she's recovering from being wounded.

"Uh, yeah…thanks?"

I think I almost see a smirk on her face before she turns to walk away. "Yeah well, don't let it go to your head. You're still junior league as far as I can see."

I pick up my towel and wipe the sweat from my face as I follow her. "I think those Russian mobsters I saved you from last night might disagree," I say with a hint of annoyance.

She just waves her hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah. Get over it pussy."

I shake my head and try to contain my sigh. "Whatever. Look, are you feeling okay? Want some breakfast?"

"I'm fine," she bites off tersely. "Do you actually have any real food here?" she asks dubiously as she gets into the kitchen.

"Well, it's not a five-star restaurant, but I think I can handle breakfast. Bacon and eggs?" I ask as I walk to the fridge.

"Whatever," she replies as she slowly heaves herself onto a bar-stool at the counter. "Just make sure I get some coffee."

I notice the wince she tries to hide as she sits down, but I know better than to comment on it.

A few minutes later Mindy has her coffee along with a plate of bacon and eggs and I'm trying to keep my coffee down amidst the butterflies in my stomach. I can't even think of having any food right now regardless of how hungry I was before.

"Not eating?" asks Mindy with a raised eyebrow. Shit sometimes I think she can read my mind.

"Um no…not really hungry."

"Right," she says with a snort. "I hope your morning routine is usually better than this. There's no way you should be having nothing more than a coffee after a workout like you had. We're going to have to work on that."

I shake my head. "I know, okay I just…wait what did you say?"

"I said you better shape up. I'm not going into action with a partner who doesn't know how to keep himself fit and healthy."

I can't stop the smile that appears from spreading over my face. "You're staying?" I ask, unable to keep the waver out of my voice. Shit, why do I always have to sound like such a pussy?

"Yes, I'm staying," she responds, mimicking my waver much to my chagrin. "I have business that needs finishing here and even I'm not too proud to admit that I'll need some help. You're not totally useless so while I'm healing up we'll get you going on a *real* training routine. We'll take care of that fuck-wad Chris and then…"

"Yeah?" I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Then we'll see what happens. I don't need to get dragged down into any more shit. I play it by ear these days."

I shrug. "Okay sounds good. How do you want to start?"

"First you get hydrated and eat a real goddam breakfast," she answers with a growl. "Then you can get in a good run before you show me what you can do against that training dummy."

"Sure, sounds great!" I say, wincing at the chirpiness of my voice.

Mindy does too. "Don't get all sunshine and rainbows on me here Kick-Ass. This is a professional relationship that has a duration of exactly until Chris D'Amico has been fed his own balls and is planted in the ground. Got it?"

I nod, somewhat deflated, but at least happy that she isn't going to immediately leave…or kill me. "Got it."

I know that whatever Mindy has planned for me is going to feel like a living hell on my poor body, but I can't help but feel pretty damn good about it. Mindy's back and at least now I've got some time to figure out how the hell to salvage our friendship from whatever it is that happened over the last two years. It's a start.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes: <strong>_Well, that's the conclusion of the first chapter in my Kick-Ass series 'A Long Time Coming'. I hope you enjoyed it and you can see the continuation of the story in "Masking the Pain". I had initially envisioned the latter story as a one-shot, but I plan on continuing it with further chapters instead of starting a new story. Please leave reviews if you liked it!_


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